


Notes to Follow

by Mythdefied



Series: Brother Mine [3]
Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, Twincest, early life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythdefied/pseuds/Mythdefied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joxer was surprised by how much he really did like music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notes to Follow

**Author's Note:**

> From my notes, it looks like this was written in 2004, but revised a few times after multiple betas, until '05, when I fell out of the fandom.

Shifting his grip, Joxer tried the fingering again. This time the tone was more pure, less of that discordant twang when he plucked the strings. That seemed to do it; if he braced his lyre on his upper thighs instead of nearer to his knees, he was able to get his fingers in a better position. It still didn't sound perfect, but Talos, the tutor his mother had hired a few months back, kept telling him that practice would make it come easier. He just had to be patient, and practice. Always practice.

That was a little difficult, though. He had to hide what he was doing from his father, knowing that he'd get no approval from that quarter. He might not have tried so hard if he hated it, but Joxer was surprised by how much he really did like music. He didn't mind the practice or the concentration it took; hearing the right notes come out was its own reward, just like Talos said it would be.

There was no way Joxer could duck out of weapons practice - not that he'd want to - or regular lessons with the family tutor - _that_ he would've happily skipped, if he could've gotten away with it, but Joxer made the time for this. He could get away with taking his meals in his room with his father away so much lately. It might’ve been different if his brothers had still been around, but Jace had been fostered out a couple years back. And while it’d seemed like a good thing at the time, an opportunity to have closer ties with another family, Joxer missed him now. Jace, out of all the men in their family, would’ve been the one to understand this, encourage and even help him. Joxer wished he could have Jace’s singing accompany him; he knew it would’ve been beautiful. But Jace was miles away and they were lucky to see each other once a month.

Jett was always so busy doing his own things these days, which, Joxer was grateful for. He didn’t know _what_ , exactly Jett was up to, and although he did miss Jett’s company for other reasons, this he didn’t need Jett knowing about. Too much like their father, Jett would likely hold the same opinions and Joxer never wanted his brother disapproving of him like that. What Jett didn’t know, couldn’t hurt either of them.

Joxer did, occasionally, spend some time with their mother, practicing while she listened, gave her opinions; sometimes praise, sometimes correction. But he was far too old to be in the women’s quarters much and trying to sneak in and out of there too often was sure to get him caught eventually by his father or his brother, and it wasn’t worth the risk.

So he’d taken to practicing in the only real privacy he could be reasonably assured of. Retiring to his room early and throwing the bolt on the door, he could spend the hours before dark running through his lessons, pulling notes from his lyre that were more sweet than discordant these days. And he was far more comfortable here than he was even in his stolen lessons with Talos. Here, instead of seated properly and upright on a bench, he could slouch back against the headboard of his bed, one leg outstretched, the other curled beneath him, nightshirt tucked up above his legs so his lyre wouldn't slip on the material. Talos would’ve lectured him on his sloppy positioning, but Joxer felt so much more relaxed and he played better for it.

His lyre wasn't the best of instruments, old and worn and in need of frequent retuning, but it was good enough for a beginner, according to Talos. He said that given enough practice, Joxer's playing would improve to the point where he'd be worthy of a better lyre. Joxer was looking forward to that; he'd been eyeing the ones on display in the market. Whenever he went there lately, he always found an excuse to make a side trip to the stall where the instruments were on display and there were a number of lyres that he wanted to try out. Not that he could. No son of his father's could be seen playing with a lyre. When he eventually bought his own, he'd probably have to go to another city.

The sound of metal sliding against wood snapped Joxer's attention from his lyre to the door - where the bolt was being pushed up under the assistance of a thin dagger. It fit easily into the slight gap between door and frame, and in a quick, upward move, it flipped the bolt completely up.

Joxer cursed under his breath and hurried to hide his lyre. But the covers were pushed down to the bottom of the bed and as he fumbled with them, panic constricting at his heart, the door swung open. He lunged forward, ending up with his head at the end of the bed and the lyre hidden under his stomach.

"Hey, Jox; what're you doing?" Jett stood there in the doorway, twirling the dagger one-handed. 

He still wore the black leather pants and silk shirt Joxer had watched him put on few hours before when he'd been headed into the city to do...whatever; Jett never explained himself in that regard. His leather gauntlets were missing, though, as well as his vest, and his shirt was unlaced. He looked good like that and Joxer couldn't help giving him a quick once-over, smiling at the sight. But the smile disappeared quickly when he realized that maybe the display wasn't for his benefit. What if Jett had been in his room next door, changing? Had he heard something? Joxer had thought the walls were too thick for the music to carry and Jett hadn't said anything before....

"Why're you always locking yourself in here, bro?" Jett asked. The dagger stilling in his hand, he tilted his head to the side, giving Joxer a curious look. "The first few times, well, I just figured we need a little...personal time every now and then, right? But three nights every week? I'm starting to feel neglected, Jox." A slight grin touched his lips, letting Joxer know he wasn't angry. But he wasn't teasing either.

"No, Jett, it's nothing like that!" he said quickly, because as much as he wanted to keep this secret, he didn't want Jett to think he’d tired of him. As though that could ever happen. "I spend almost every other evening with you, don't I?" And some nights too, especially with their father gone on one of his long campaigns. Their mother was a late riser so there was no one to whom they need worry about explaining certain odd sleeping arrangements.

Jett nodded. "But you're still keeping secrets."

Joxer shoved his arms under his chest, raising him up to a more comfortable position but still keeping his lyre concealed. "Well, you know, we're not kids anymore, Jett, and that means we don't share everything," he said, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as it felt, because he was pulling things out of thin air here.

"Since when?" Jett's tone had an edge of incredulity to it that Joxer could understand because really, he didn't buy it either.

"Since, um...now, I guess." He shrugged, dropping his eyes uncomfortably. 

Jett's feet were bare; he took note of that as Jett walked into his room. He had nice feet; Joxer supposed maybe he did too since they were basically the same feet, but the black of Jett's pants made them seem more pale, graceful. Joxer’s fingers twitched and he wondered if Jett would enjoy a foot massage. Maybe it would distract Jett from what he was about to find out because as Joxer heard the door close, the latch fall, he knew he wasn't going to keep his secret, and the prospect of the discovery, of what Jett might say - Joxer had to swallow back a lump of anxiety that crept up into his throat.

"Try another line; I'm not falling for that one," Jett said sardonically.

He stopped beside the end of the bed and Joxer looked up, meeting Jett's gaze. He had to tilt his head back further than was really comfortable, but he wasn't going to move off the lyre until he really had to.

Jett gave him a knowing look as he slid his dagger into the sheath strapped to his thigh. "What're you hiding, Jox?"

"Hiding? Um, nothing! Really. What makes you think I'm hiding something? I just want some time to myself - not that I don't wanna spend any with you because I do! But I've got...things I want to do on my own and you wouldn't understand and it's private and-and...you're not gonna let this go, are you?" Resignation entered Joxer's tone and his shoulders slumped, anxiety giving over to a sinking feeling.

Jett smirked. "You don't have secrets or privacy, not with me."

Joxer sighed; that was true enough.

"Sit up."

It was an order and Joxer knew he should obey, Jett would just pull him up if he didn’t - but he hesitated. Biting his lower lip, he gave Jett a pleading look.

"C'mon, Jett." He meant it to come out sounding reasonable, but instead it was a whine, bordering on a plea.

Jett rolled his eyes and moved a few steps closer, placing him at the edge of the bed and into Joxer's peripheral vision. Joxer cringed in anticipation of whatever Jett would do, but he was still caught by surprise.

Jett's hand came down hard on his ass. His nightshirt had ridden up when he'd thrown himself over his lyre and now Jett's hand landed firmly on bare skin. Joxer yelped and jerked away reflexively, rolling to the side.

"A _lyre_?" Jett said in disbelief.

Joxer dropped his head back on the mattress with a groan, hands clenching as he braced himself for the worst.

"You're playing the _lyre_?"

The edge of his lyre was under his back so Joxer felt it clearly when Jett grabbed it and yanked it off the bed.

"Joxer...what in Athena’s name are you _doing_?" His tone was thick with incredulity, but not disdain, or worse, condemnation, not yet anyway. But the lack of it, even if it was only momentarily, was enough to give Joxer a bit of courage.

"What's it look like, Jett?" Joxer glared up at him. "You already said it; I'm playing the lyre. Or at least I'm learning." There, he'd said it.

Jett was looking at him like he'd suddenly sprouted a tail, or snakes out of his head or something that made him...odd. That got even more of a reaction from Joxer.

"You know, I'm-I’m not bad," he said, pushing himself up. "I'm not great but, if I practice, I-I could be! I _like_ it, Jett. I've found something I'm good at."

Still holding the lyre, Jett dropped down onto the edge of the bed, never once taking his eyes off Joxer. "Music?" He still sounded incredulous. "You wanna be a _musician_? Joxer, what....just...." He shook his head, his expression turning confused. "You're not thinking about taking up singing and dancing too, are you? Designing your own clothes?"

"No, of course not," Joxer said with a snort. "I'm still me, not Jace, okay? I still wanna be a warrior and maybe a warlord some day, but there's nothing wrong with being a bard, too."

"That's not what Dad'll think," Jett warned, but the incredulity had disappeared, and it wasn’t being replaced, as Joxer had feared, by anger or disgust or anything more than a healthy amount of skepticism. "Look, Jox...did Mom put you up to this? I know she always wanted a musician in the family, and with Jace gone-"

"It wasn’t like that,” Joxer said, annoyed that Jett would think Mom could make him do something he didn’t want to. “I _like_ music and I want to do this. Here; give it to me." Joxer leaned forward and grabbed for his lyre, taking it from Jett with no resistance on Jett’s part. "Just-just listen, all right?" he said, pleaded, and this time it was a plea, not even a hint of a whine to it.

Jett shook his head, doubt and disbelief obvious, but he didn't make any move to take back the lyre. He pulled his legs up onto the bed, crossing them, and gave Joxer a too-patient look. "Go on," he said, waving a hand at Joxer and he looked ready to be bored out of his mind.

Joxer took a deep breath and let it out. He felt shaky inside, nervous the way he never did when playing for his Mom, but at least it wasn’t translating to his hands, which were steady enough as he sat up straight, crossing his legs and resting his lyre on his thighs. He could do this, he knew it, he could wipe that bored, disbelieving look right off Jett’s face. Or at least he hoped he could. He really wasn't all that great, but he wasn't terrible either, and that's what mattered. 

His nightshirt was in the way and he took a second to yank it up, settling the lyre on skin. Joxer tested the tuning, adjusting the pegs as necessary - which it wasn’t, really, but he needed another moment to relax as best he could, to steady himself inside. 

This was his first ever performance, he realized. Everything else with Talos and his Mom was just practice. He could hardly have picked a tougher audience - Jett would have no problem criticizing, mocking, jeering and otherwise pointing out every single mistake. But, Joxer hoped, Jett would be equally as generous with his praise. He never failed to be in other aspects of their lives.

Taking another deep breath, letting it out slowly, Joxer brought to mind the one song he knew well. It was only a child's lullaby, nothing worthy of a performance, really, but it was all he had and it would have to be enough to convince Jett. He settled his fingers in the right position, making sure not to grip the lyre too tightly with his other hand, and kept all the chords and fingering firmly in mind. Then he began.

Once he got past the first bars, Joxer relaxed a little. The notes were coming out clear, the tone pure. A good minute into the song, Jett hadn't made a single comment and Joxer's nervousness began to disappear entirely. He still didn't look up, didn't take his eyes off the lyre and not just because he was afraid of what he might see on Jett's face, he was also fairly certain that if he looked away, even for a second, he'd screw up somehow. Talos had told him that true masters of the lyre could play it without once looking at the instrument, but Joxer was far from that level and he wasn't going to delude himself about it, not now.

The song ended on a simple chord, but one he'd gotten wrong often enough before. This time though, it was perfect. As the pretty sound died away, Joxer didn't try to stop the wide grin spreading across his face; he'd done it! Every other time he'd done this song it'd been...acceptable, but not up to the level Talos was looking for; this time Joxer was sure Talos would've approved, as would his mother. But they weren't Jett, and Jett...still hadn't said a word.

Joxer looked up, anxious about what Jett would say, how he'd react, but he had to face it.

Jett was still watching him and his expression...he was smiling. Just a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth, but it was still a smile and that meant he hadn't hated it!

"You see?" Joxer said eagerly, encouraged by the surprisingly positive reaction. "I'm not bad. Okay, so maybe I need a lot of practice, but I'm not terrible at it! You heard!"

“Yeah, I heard.” Jett nodded. “And maybe you’ve got something there - _maybe_ ,” he emphasized, holding up a finger when Joxer grinned widely. “But it really doesn’t change things.”

“What do you mean?” Joxer frowned, grin vanishing. “I just - that was note-perfect, Jett, and I’m getting better every week!”

“You know, I believe you, Jox.” And he did, it was in his tone, the way his gaze met Joxer’s without the usual teasing, mocking twinkle in his eye. “And maybe, if you were someone else’s son, you could be a bard. But you know the drill here, bro.”

“Dad.” Joxer sighed, running the fingers of one hand over the top of the the smooth, seasoned wood of his lyre.

“It’s always gonna come back to that, Joxer.”

“But I’m _happy_ when I do this!” Joxer protested, even knowing the ultimate futility of it.

Jett surprised him, though. Instead of giving him the expected lecture on familial responsibility and how pointless it was to fight his planned future, Jett sat forward, reaching out to cup Joxer’s cheek with one hand.

“I know, Jox,” Jett said quietly. He smiled slightly, a fond expression as his thumb slid gently over the corner of Joxer’s mouth. “And that’s why I won’t say anything.”

Joxer gasped, truly surprised. “You-you mean - _really_?” His voice dropped to a shocked whisper.

“Yeah, _really_.” And this time there was a hint of a tease in Jett’s voice, in his widening smile. “But,” he held up two fingers of his other hand, “you gotta promise me that you’re not skimping out on other stuff. No forgetting weapons practice. No ducking out on lessons.”

“You _know_ I’m not!” Joxer said, giving him a pointed look. “You’re there for all that, remember?”

“I know, but I don’t want to find you suddenly taking sick just so you can practice this, okay?” 

“I haven’t done that yet, Jett - and I _won’t_ ,” he promised at Jett’s raised eyebrow. “I told you, I still wanna be a warrior.” 

“Then we don’t have a problem,” Jett said, and scooted closer, his knee brushing Joxer’s, warm leather against skin.

The sudden, unexpected contact made Joxer gasp softly. Jett’s thumb slid into his mouth, touching his tongue.

“I like how you look when you play, Jox.” Jett’s voice deepened and Joxer shivered, recognizing the tone, the hunger behind it.

“Y-You do?” Joxer leaned into the hand on his cheek, deliberately flicked his tongue against Jett’s thumb.

Jett sucked in a deep breath at the touch. “Yeah.” He drew out the word. “Your nightshirt pulled up so high, nearly showing me everything - but not quite. That look on your face, all intent and focused, like there’s nothing else in the world - like how you look at me when I’m making you come. And the way you touch those strings, stroking them, sliding over them....” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m jealous of a fucking lyre.”

The way Jett could _say_ things like that! It never failed to make Joxer’s face heat, make his eyes lower in embarrassment - make his cock hard.

“You, ah....” Joxer licked his lips, tasted the skin of Jett’s thumb, heard him hiss. “You don’t have to be jealous.” He carefully set aside his lyre, pushing it away as far as he could reach, near the end of the bed, hopefully far enough out of the way.

“Maybe,” Jett said, pulling his thumb away, stroking it over Joxer’s lips. It left a damp trail behind. “But I still want to see it again, later.”

“How much later?” Joxer asked, looking up from beneath his eyelashes. He reached out to twine the laces of Jett’s shirt around his fingers, letting the backs of his fingers brush against Jett’s bare chest.

“A _lot_ later,” Jett said, leaning in.

Joxer met him half way, the kiss open mouthed, deep, but surprisingly soft. It was Joxer who broke it moments later, pulling back, and Jett let him with a slightly raised eyebrow. Usually it was Joxer who wanted to kiss the most, and he did love it, the way their lips moved against each other, the feel of their tongues touching and sliding, the way it left them both breathless and aching for more. But Joxer had something else in mind. Jett didn’t seem to be in any rush, either, so Joxer didn’t hesitate to place a hand flat on his chest and give him a light shove, more direction than an actual push.

Jett went with it, raising his other eyebrow curiously as he fell back on the bed, pillow under his upper back, head resting back against the plain wood of the headboard.

Joxer didn’t follow him straight down; he took a moment, just sitting there, looking down at Jett stretched out like that, arms at his sides, ready and waiting for whatever Joxer had in mind, whatever he wanted. He looked...perfect.

Joxer was smiling as he moved over Jett, straddling his lower legs. "I love this shirt on you," he said as he leaned down, bracing his hands on the mattress alongside Jett.

Front unlaced, the shirt bared most of Jett's chest down to the top of his stomach; hard muscles in stark relief against black silk. A single brown nipple was visible but the other was hidden by a fold of silk. Joxer bent forward and closed his mouth over the material, sucking lightly, feeling Jett's nipple through the slick material.

Jett made a pleased noise and Joxer felt Jett's hand in his hair seconds later, not gripping, not yet, but encouraging. Damp silk stuck to Jett's nipple, outlining the stiffening peak to Joxer's tongue. A few teasing licks got him a moan and Jett's fingers pressing lightly against his scalp. Jett was so much more responsive to this than Joxer was, and Joxer suspected that if he really worked at it, he could get Jett to come just by playing with his nipples. Not that he'd ever have the patience to test out that theory. Already he wanted to move on.

Ignoring Jett's other nipple, regardless of Jett's hand urging him over there, Joxer slid up, letting his body press close. He trailed his lips up Jett's chest, pausing to press moist kisses to his throat, lick his chin, then he found Jett's mouth and stopped there, savoring. Jett’s mouth was so _hot_ against his. Hands came up to grab at his shoulders as they did their best to devour each other, tongues clashing, sliding and thrusting. Joxer groaned into Jett's mouth, a sound Jett echoed moments later when Joxer's hands began fumbling at the laces of his pants.

Joxer wasn't willing to give up Jett's mouth, not until he had the laces completely undone and Jett's half hard cock in one hand, heavy balls in the other. Jett's hands were tight on his arms, gripping, holding him there and he seemed just as reluctant to stop the kissing, even when Joxer began slowly jacking him. His kisses became harder then, tongue pushing further into Joxer's mouth and Joxer encouraged him, moaning and tightening his grip around Jett's thickening shaft.

When Joxer did draw back from their kissing, it was with a small noise of regret, a sentiment echoed in Jett's heated expression, the way his hands flexed on Joxer's arms.

"Keep going," Jett said, voice husky, urgent as Joxer stilled his hands.

Joxer shook his head. "I like this." He gave Jett's balls a light squeeze, pressing his other thumb against the spot just under the head of Jett's cock.

Jett gasped and pushed up into his hand. "So do I, now kiss me!" An order, but Joxer shook his head again.

"Uh-uh. I like this better." He slid back on Jett's legs, sliding his hand down around the bottom half of Jett's cock at the same time, holding it at the perfect angle. Leaning down, he fit his mouth easily around the head, sliding his tongue over it, under the foreskin and drawing a deep groan from Jett.

"Yeah...better," Jett gasped out, one hand still clutching at Joxer's arm while the other moved, tangling in Joxer's hair.

Joxer sucked hard as he slowly lowered his head until his lips touched his fingers. A hint of soap reached him, from Jett's bath earlier in the day, but other tastes overwhelmed that, the saltiness of skin, a heavy muskiness that translated to smell, his nose close to the dark curls at the base of Jett's cock. Bitterness touched the flat of his tongue, a drop of precome, and right about when Joxer was expecting it. Jett could last a long time, but only after he'd already gotten off once. That first time, he was fast. That was fine with Joxer; right now he wanted Jett to come in his mouth.

He slid his mouth back up, running his tongue over the thick vein along the underside of Jett's cock, sucking noisily as he went. The sounds couldn't drown out Jett's harsh breathing from above him and Joxer would've smiled if he could have. Instead, he released Jett's balls and worked a couple fingers into his mouth, pressing against Jett's cock when he slid his mouth back down. Fingers as wet as the thick shaft when Joxer pulled back again, he dropped his hand back down, running his fingers over Jett's balls. Cool moisture against heated skin and Jett gasped sharply, hips jerking upward.

Taking that as his cue, Joxer began moving faster, head bobbing steadily, sucking hard, tonguing the head of Jett's cock on each upstroke. He could've released the base of Jett's cock, let Jett thrust into his mouth, but he couldn't suck with Jett down his throat and he liked what he was doing, so he held on, squeezing rhythmically with the movements of his mouth.

Jett was groaning above him, harsh sounds in the back of his throat, fingers digging into Joxer's arm and scalp. Arms braced on Jett's thighs, Joxer could feel the tremble starting there, muscles tensing. Rolling Jett's balls one final time between damp fingers, he let go and pushed his hand down between them. Shoving aside the thick cotton of his nightshirt, Joxer finally reached his own cock.

Fully erect, just starting that delicious throbbing, a pulsing in time with his sucking on Jett. He wrapped his hand around himself, grateful for the lingering moisture on his fingers as he began to slide his fist along his cock, his grip tighter than he used on Jett.

Jett, who sucked in a sharp breath, hips shoving up, back arching as he pulsed in Joxer's hand, his mouth. Sliding down, Joxer caught the first spurt on the back of his tongue. Swallowing, he quickly moved back up, mouth tightening on the head, in the perfect position now as Jett came, moaning through clenched teeth. Joxer stilled his hand on his own cock so he could enjoy this. Salty, bitter, but not horribly so, thick fluid sliding over his tongue with a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste that really didn't surprise Joxer.

He sucked at Jett, tonguing out every last drop from the slit at the tip, until finally Jett's hand in his hair tugged him upward. Giving him one last hard suck, tight squeeze, making him gasp and shudder, Joxer relented and pulled away.

Jett was grinning down at him, expression ever so slightly dazed. Not that he was off guard. Jett was hardly ever caught that way, but he was relaxed, and very pleased. Joxer grinned back.

"You've been at the baklava again," he said, a teasing accusation.

"Yeah," Jett admitted with a lazy shrug. "But I work it off during weapons training."

"Makes you taste good." Joxer licked his lips.

"Unlike you and that smoked fish you like." Jett gave a theatrical shudder. "I'm _not_ swallowing _that_."

Joxer chuckled and pushed himself up, hand braced on Jett's thigh. "Then why don't I take care of it, huh?" 

Jett let him go as he sat back, resting on Jett's legs. Hand still on his cock, Joxer began stroking himself again.

"Oh yeah." Jett's eyes were heavy lidded. "Pull this up." He tugged at the hem of Joxer's nightshirt. "I want a good view."

Joxer paused just long enough to grab the nightshirt, bunch it up and let most of the loose material fall behind his back. It left his thighs bare, his balls hanging loose beneath, his cock sticking up from under the soft cotton. Giving his fingers a lick, he dropped his hand back down and began jerking himself again.

He was already at that steady aching stage. Sucking Jett, tasting him, it was always so hot and Joxer was close from that and his own touch. He didn't watch himself though, instead he watched Jett, seeing everything in his expression. Wide pupils, breathing that hadn't calmed yet from the shallow gasps of orgasm, sweat glistening at his temples, fingers twitching where they gripped his thighs tightly; so beautiful. Not that Joxer would ever say that out loud; he just enjoyed the sight as he tightened his grip more, pulling harder.

Licking the fingers of his other hand, he began circling his nipple through his nightshirt. It felt nice enough but it didn't do nearly as much for him as it would Jett. And that was the whole point of doing it anyway, to make Jett groan like that, see his spent cock twitch.

A sharp throb caught Joxer by surprise and he gasped, hips arching, pushing into his hand. Another throb and his balls started to draw up, the ache in his cock increasing. He tightened his grip more, just shy of painful, and pulled hard. A deep pulse, and he wanted to keep watching Jett but he couldn't because the world went out of focus as his muscles clenched tight, legs shaking, breath seizing in his chest. Hard, swift pleasure overwhelmed him, settling in his cock and pouring out in wet pulses over his hand.

The world refocused again some indeterminate time later and Joxer found himself still sitting on Jett's legs, but only barely upright. He was listing to the side, ready to collapse in a boneless slump at any moment. His hand was only loosely wrapped around himself, shaft still thick against his palm, but not as firm; his other hand was on Jett's leg, lying against come-smeared black leather.

Jett didn't look like he cared. He was grinning, a flush to his cheeks that wasn't all from his own recent pleasure. He had one hand around his cock, just cupping it, not stroking, but he was already partially hard. Given a few more minutes, he'd be ready again.

"What d'you want, Jett?" Joxer asked, his voice lethargic, slurring a little. He wasn't really tired, though, not yet, just overly relaxed. That would pass the moment Jett touched him; he wouldn't sleep until Jett did.

Jett's grin widened. "I want...." He drew it out, a deliberate tease. "To watch you play," he finished, jabbing a finger towards the end of the bed where Joxer's lyre still lay.

That caught Joxer by surprise. "Really? Now?" He asked with a frown.

"Yeah, now, Joxer." Using his full name meant Jett was entirely serious, even if he was still grinning. "You look hot doing it and...and ya know, it sounds pretty good, too."

Jett was still being utterly serious and for a moment Joxer could only grin at him. He wanted to hug Jett, hard, but Jett would just brush it off, say something to make the whole thing less serious, less special, and Joxer didn’t want that. Instead, he just savored the moment as long as he could, until Jett raised an eyebrow pointedly.

“W-Well, I _am_ supposed to be practicing,” Joxer said, still grinning. 

Shaking off the laxness in his muscles, Joxer leaned back, bracing himself on the mattress with one hand - knowing exactly what a view he was giving Jett - and reaching for the lyre with his other. He never took his gaze from Jett's face, saw the way Jett's tongue flicked out over his lips, the hunger rising in his expression.

He had to grope around a bit, but finally his fingers brushed over wood. Making a grab, he latched on to one side of his lyre and pulled it back towards him.

"So should I just sit here?" he asked, settling more firmly back on Jett's legs, his nightshirt falling back around his thighs. "It'll be hard to play."

"Over there." Jett jabbed two fingers towards the other side of the bed, about where Joxer had been sitting when he'd played before.

Nodding, Joxer levered himself off of Jett's legs and moved over.

"No, on your knees," Jett instructed when Joxer would've crossed his legs.

Joxer raised an eyebrow in amusement but did as he he was told, tucking his legs under him. "Anything else?" he asked teasingly.

"Uh-huh." Jett turned over onto his side, propping his head up on an arm. "Pull up your nightshirt."

"I do that anyway," Joxer said, tucking it up above his thighs with one hand, the other keeping hold of his lyre.

"No," Jett said before Joxer could rest the lyre on his thighs. "Higher."

"Oh." Now Joxer got it. Giving Jett a knowing smile, he hiked the hem up higher, above his cock, letting the loose material fall to the sides. "Is that better?"

"Yeah." Jett's voice was getting deep again.

This was going to make playing a challenge. No way was he setting the lyre on his cock; as much as Jett might enjoy the sight, that would hurt. But maybe.... Joxer lifted his cock, giving it a couple strokes just to see Jett's pupils dilate, his lips part on a silent moan. Joxer was too sensitive for more stimulation than that, so he lay his cock against his right thigh and set his lyre on his left. The new angle would make playing more difficult and Joxer knew he'd make many more mistakes, but maybe Jett wouldn’t notice given the...spectacle.

"That's perfect," Jett said in a low voice. The sound made Joxer shiver pleasantly.

"You know," he said, getting a proper grip on the side of his lyre, "I'm supposed to be practicing every day. I've only been getting two or three nights a week in because I've had to hide it. But now that you know-"

"You'll be practicing every night," Jett cut in. "Here, or in my room, doesn't matter which." As he spoke, his hand slid down his hip, fingers grazing the head of his cock, sliding over the foreskin.

Joxer felt his heart start to pound faster. "You'll watch?" he asked, teasing, because he already knew the answer.

"Wouldn't miss it." Jett's fingers started to slide up and down, barely touching and Joxer didn't know how he could stand it, that would've tickled him, but it obviously worked for Jett; he was fully hard now.

Joxer wanted to watch, touch, lean in and use his mouth to make Jett lose control again, but instead he looked down at his lyre and focused on that. With his new "audience" there was no telling how much actual practice he'd get in before one, or both of them got...distracted, so he needed to make the most of the time he had.

Making sure he had his lyre settled as well as possible given the position, Joxer chose a tune at random. Not one he was very good at, but that was what practice was for. Setting his fingers on the strings, he began to play.

 

Fin


End file.
